


Take Me Home

by Hammocker



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Bad Parenting, Brotherly Love, Crying, Daryl doesn't know how to feelings, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Neither does Merle, Poor Daryl, Pre-Slash, Probably the only not-necessarily-incest thing I'll write with these two, Protective Merle Dixon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 14:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10618725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: His mom was gone. His brother was gone. Daryl was alone and no one cared. What else could he do but wait it out?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started watching Walking Dead purely for Merle Dixon. Was not disappointed. Things spiraled from there, but my heart is with the Dixon brothers and I'm hoping to write some more ideas with them.
> 
> Oh, yeah, and I should probably mention that Daryl is about fifteen or sixteen here.

Daryl laid on his side in his bed, breathing heavy as he tolerated the pain in his back. He’d had to take his shirt off, it was so raw and aching. He was good with pain, but he’d never get used to the burn that leather left, the bite of it. Daryl had been burned before, once or twice, but the belt was worse. Fire didn't seem so bad when he was facing his dad's wrath every night. Sometimes he wished he’d gone up in smoke like his mom. Sometimes he...

Daryl let go of the tension in his belly with a breath. It wasn’t like he could do anything anyway. Daryl had nowhere to go. His mom was gone. His brother was gone. No one cared. Why should they? He was just another poor kid, struggling to find some niche in the world and not get beaten. Nothing special there.

So Daryl curled up into himself and shut his eyes, doing his best to recall some happy memories. Taking a dip in the lake Summers past. Climbing trees and hanging out to watch the sunset. Merle showing him how to bag squirrels. The few times they’d hunted together. Singing old songs together. Hell, a lot of the times he’d had with his brother. Sure, Merle was the biggest jackass Daryl knew, but it never stopped them from finding something to smile about.

God, he missed Merle. One minute he was there, the next he was just gone. Sure, Merle could be uncaring, narrow-minded, and downright mean, but he hadn’t thought that Merle would just leave. They were kin, blood, _brothers_ , for God’s sake. How could he up and leave Daryl behind like that?

Didn’t matter one way or another, Daryl reminded himself. He could mope all day, but he was still alone. Nothing to be done about that but wait it out. So Daryl closed his eyes and hoped that the hours would pass quickly.

*****

It only felt like a few hours when Daryl was aware of himself again. In fact, if the darkness in the room was any measure, that was exactly right. Definitely wasn’t morning yet. Slowly, Daryl grew aware of someone nudging at his shoulder, then the voice above him.

“Come on, sleeping beauty, we ain’t got time to spare.” The words were hushed and tense, yet easy and familiar.

“Huh?” Daryl mumbled, lifting his head towards the voice.

“There he is,” the rough voice said. It sounded like- No, it couldn’t be.

But as he blinked his eyes open and they focused in the dark, there was that broad-shouldered, square-jawed figure, sat up against Daryl on the bed.

“Merle?”

“Who’d y’expect, the Easter Bunny?” Again Merle shoved him. “Come on, Daryl, up, up, up.”

Daryl obeyed, sitting up and stretching out, but the whole situation seemed fishy. Not real, even. He couldn’t not ask questions.

“What time is it?”

“Late ‘nough for a jailbreak,” Merle said, giving him a slimy half-smirk.

“I’m dreamin’,” Daryl muttered, shaking his head and moving to lay back down.

“‘Fraid not.” Merle made his point with a sharp pinch to Daryl’s side.

Daryl flinched as a shot of adrenaline rushed through him. Nope, that wasn’t a dream. How about that? Daryl stared up at Merle in disbelief, and Merle’s smirk only got cockier.

“Mhm, we’re gettin’ you outta this shithole, baby brother.” He turned away as though to stand before adding, “‘less you’d rather stay.”

Even if it was a dream, Daryl had no comeback to that.

Daryl got to his feet and glanced around for where he left his shoes. Once he spotted them in the pale moonlight, he stumbled over. Before he could touch them, though, a thump followed by footsteps caught Daryl’s attention. Instinctively, he tensed up and listened. In an instant, the smile was off Merle’s face and he did the same thing, seeming to track the sound.

Merle lifted his hand towards Daryl in the “quiet” sign as he waited. Another couple heavy steps and he turned back to Daryl.

“You stay here and you wait for me, y’hear?“

Daryl nodded and watched as Merle slipped out of the room. He held his breath for a few seconds before finally slipping his shoes on. Everything was eerily quiet all of a sudden, no sound from either his dad or Merle. It gave Daryl time to clear his head. Think about what Merle was doing back, about what he was planning, about where he was going to be after tonight. There was too much to think about and Daryl did his best to do as little of it as possible. He grabbed for the shirt he’d tossed to the floor earlier.

Then there was the first shout.

The first came from their dad, words that Daryl couldn’t begin to understand. Too muffled, too angry, even in the shack of a house. Out of sheer curiosity, Daryl approached the door to listen better.

“-the hell outta here ‘fore I blow you away!”

“Try it, old man, see if you get that far!”

Daryl caught snippets, but they were shouting so loud and fast and over each other that it was still impossible to make a lot of it out.

Next was the first crash, someone smacking hard into something. Daryl couldn’t begin to tell who had thrown the first punch, but he wouldn’t put it past either of them. He heard the slap of skin connecting with skin, muscle on muscle, roars of pain and aggression from both of them. The whole building shook as someone was shoved into a wall and shoved into it again and again. 

Daryl had been in fights all his life, but they weren’t savage like what he was hearing. The banging, the smashing, the shouting, Daryl had only ever heard anything like it with his dad and Merle.

One last smash, like glass breaking, and someone collapsing the ground, and everything went quiet. No sound, no nothing. It had all gone by so fast that Daryl couldn’t tell if it was all real or in his head. If anything, the quiet was more frightening than the fighting.

Daryl approached the door, clutching his shirt close to his chest, and poked his head out. He stared out into the short hall, down towards the sitting room and saw nothing in the dark.

After a moment, he caught movement and ducked back into his room, hugging the wall. He held his breath, hoping and praying that it wasn’t their dad, ready to beat him or worse for what his brother had done. It was out of his hands now. Fifty-fifty chance so he just prayed as footsteps came closer and closer to his room.

“The hell’re you doin’?” Merle’s voice said from beside him.

Daryl looked over and sure enough, Merle was leaning into his room, eying him. He didn’t even have time to be relieved.

“We got places to be, move it, Dar.”

Before Daryl could even try, Merle had him by the wrist and was dragging him out and through the house. It was another of those things that happened too fast for Daryl to take it all in. They passed by knocked over lampshades, a shattered glass, and Daryl just barely caught a glimpse of their dad on the ground. How Merle had managed to knock him out wasn’t something Daryl wanted to know, but he was glad for it.

Merle tossed open the front door, leading them out into the night. It was weird, thinking about never seeing this place again. It had been his home for years and, if nothing else, Daryl was used to it. But then, Daryl was nothing if not adaptable. That was about the only thing that’d kept him alive over the years.

They hurried around empty blocks, Daryl’s still sore back exposed to the night air. It wasn’t so bad, really. Better than just about anything else he could think of. No use complaining.

Soon enough, Merle led them both up to a beaten pick-up parked crookedly on the side of the road. Daryl didn’t know how he’d gotten it and maybe he didn’t want to know, but it was something at least. Merle opened up the side door and slid on in, and Daryl followed in after him. Once the door was pulled shut, both of them were left there, just sitting with each other.

For a moment, it was quiet. Daryl glanced towards Merle, who was staring forward, his lips tight, like he was thinking about something. He reached down and Daryl heard the shake of a pill bottle, then saw the translucent bottle come out. He frowned and looked forward.

From his peripheral vision, he saw Merle shake a pill or two into his hand, but he hesitated to pop them. He sat there for a second before his head turned towards Daryl.

“Ah, hell,” he mumbled before dropping the pills back where they’d come from and putting the bottle away. “Ain’t got time for this crap.”

Despite his words, the two of them kept on just sitting there. Daryl had the sense that Merle wanted to say something. And after a couple more minutes of sitting, that’s what he did.

“He hitchu?” Merle asked, voice dull and lifeless.

“Mhm,” was all Daryl could manage.

“Raise that ol’ belt on you?” Merle spat the words like grit, like just thinking about it was pissing him off.

“Mhm.”

“Motherfucker,” Merle growled. “Shoulda killed that asshole.”

Daryl didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t really want to talk at all. Daryl was starting to fear that he was about to go and do something else he was gonna regret. Maybe it was because he was tired, or because of the lingering soreness in his back, or everything that had happened that night put together, but Daryl had a tell-tale ache in his throat. Within a few heartbeats, Daryl was wracked with a sob.

“Hey, dontchu start that, little brother,” Merle said right away, leaning forward look at him better. He reached over to put a firm hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “Ain’t helpin’ no one.”

Daryl took in a deep breath and held it for a long moment. He knew Merle was right, knew that crying would just make things seem worse. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to cry and he at least knew how to fight it. Once he felt like he’d choked out the tears, Daryl let himself breathe again.

“Th- thanks,” he managed, still struggling to calm himself.

“Don’t gotta thank me,” Merle said, patting his shoulder more gently this time. “You’re the only brother I got, you think I’d let that asshole hurtchu?”

Maybe. Yes. Merle had done exactly that, all throughout his absence, by his own will. He had to have known; Daryl had seen his scars from their father so he couldn’t have not known what would happen. It hurt Daryl thinking about it. But Merle was here now and he’d damn near murdered their dad and things weren’t gonna be like they were before.

All those thoughts only worsened Daryl’s awful urge to cry. He didn’t want to, really he didn’t, but the longer he didn’t, the more lightheaded and throat sore he got. He wasn’t even that upset. If anything, he was happy. Happy to be anywhere but his dad’s shack.

Then it hit him: it was the happiness making him tear up. He was happier than he’d been in what felt like years. So completely overjoyed about being away from his dad and with his brother that it somehow looped around and came out like he was sad. Daryl didn’t understand it, but it was better than acting like a little bitch because he was hurting.

Overwhelmed by the thought, Daryl finally allowed the tears to come, even as he smiled through it. He leaned over to hug around his brother’s torso.

“Thank you,” he repeated, even as his voice tremored.

Merle didn’t tense or pull away or anything, just let out an exasperated sigh and put an arm around Daryl. Daryl was still growing and Merle’s form seemed so big and protective from where he sat. He shuffled right up against Merle, letting himself be held there.

“Jus’ this once, kid,” Merle murmured to him. “Can’t afford cryin’ like a pussy.”

Even though his words were sharp, his tone was much less harsh than Daryl was used to. He nodded along with them, leaning his head on Merle’s shoulder.

“No one’s gon’ hurtchu no more, not like him, y’hear me?” Merle said, tone growing intense as his grip on Daryl tightened. “Y’don’t gotta worry about no one comin’ atchu, not ever again. I ain’t gonna let’em and I ain’t gonna letchu let them. You’re gon’ learn and you’re gon’ grow.”

Merle reached out with his free hand to take the shirt Daryl had abandoned on his lap and lifted it up to give his eyes a brisk wipe.

“Yeah, tha’s what we’re gonna do,” Merle said, nodding as he discarded the shirt.

Even with how final his words were, Merle didn’t let go of Daryl. In fact, he brought his free arm around Daryl too, resting his chin against the top of Daryl’s head. He didn’t say anything more, but he started humming softly. It took a moment, but Daryl placed the tune, one of many that they’d sung together in days gone by. He even started mumbling a few of the words.

“... where the mockin’bird sang me to rest every night, oh why was I tempted to roam...”

Merle couldn’t sing, never could, but Daryl was glad to hear him anyway. Glad to feel the vibrations coming from his chest. It was a comfort, if nothing else, and what more could Daryl ask for?

So they sat there together, holding onto each other for God only knew how long. For the first time in a very long time, Daryl figured that things would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> I believe I should mention that the snippet Merle sings at the end is from John Hewitt's "Take Me Home". The title's also derived from the song, obviously. I'm very excited about this because I've wanted to have Daryl and Merle sing traditional southern folk songs for so long, you have no idea.
> 
> [Tom Roush's performance of Take Me Home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOo-qDb_me0)


End file.
